The Gold Claw and the Silver Flame
by OverTheLuna
Summary: At the end of Robert's Rebellion, it was the might of the Lannister army that decided the victor. But what if, long before that, the Lannisters had already been tied to the Targaryens? If Aerys II had accepted Lord Tywin's proposal to marry his daughter, Cersei, to Prince Rhaegar, perhaps the game of thrones would have been very different indeed.
1. A Sea of Deepest Crimson

The Gold Claw and the Silver Flame

Summary: At the end of Robert's Rebellion, it was the might of the Lannister army that decided the victor. But what if, long before that, the Lannisters had already been tied to the Targaryens? If Aerys II had accepted Lord Tywin's proposal to marry his daughter, Cersei, to Prince Rhaegar, perhaps the game of thrones would have been very different indeed.

Disclaimer: This is merely the produce of too much time thinking about Game of Thrones. All recognisable things belong to George R.R. Martin.

Chapter One

Casterly Rock was a magnificent castle, rising out of the sea at thrice the height of the Wall. It had a sheltered harbour beneath and a winding path to reach the keep itself, which sat on the top of the Rock, although there were many passageways carved within it that formed the majority of the castle. From any window, one could feel the sea air rushing past them and could hear the thunderous crashing of the waves at the stone below.

Cersei Lannister, only daughter of Lord Tywin, sat at her bedroom window, gazing out into the distance, as she so often did. The girl had only left the Rock on a handful of occasions, many of which she could not remember. Her mother had always let her venture as far as Lannisport, so long as a guard went with her... but Lady Joanna was gone now, and her passing had left her husband no kinder.

Cersei ran her eyes over the beauty that surrounded her. From her window on the side of the keep, she could see everything; the sea, the sky, the mountainous lands beyond. Most importantly, she could see the red and black banners of the approaching riders. A smile illuminated her face. They were almost here.

In honour of the birth of the new prince, Viserys, Lord Tywin had invited the king to a tourney at Lannisport. But her father was not simply being kind, that much she knew. Even at only ten years old, Cersei knew that her father never made an idle gesture; he would always have an underlying motive, to better the family. She only wished she knew what it could be.

The girl stayed at her window for as long as she dared, until her septa started calling out her name. The king would be arriving through the gates in little over ten minutes and she had to join the household assembled in the courtyard to welcome them.

Slipping down from the window seat, Cersei stood before her looking glass, admiring her reflection. She had chosen a gown of deep crimson, the colour she knew each Lannister would be wearing that day. There were swirls of embroidery in deepest black adorning the bodice, to honour the royal Targaryens, with a belt of braided bronze tied around her waist. Her hair she left loose, falling in shimmering golden waves past her waist. It was simplistic, of course, and her father would likely disapprove, if he took a moment to notice at all, but Cersei thought it best not to be too ostentacious. She was beautiful enough not to have to drape herself in jewels to be noticed.

"Lady Cersei!" Septa Sarella yelled and the girl had to restrain herself from snapping at the woman. She seemed to do nothing but chastise Tywin's daughter, while she seemed to have nothing but praise for his sons. '_She even likes Tyrion more than me.'_ she thought bitterly, though she could not imagine why.

"I'm coming." she called in response, putting on her sweetest voice.

When she arrived in the courtyard, it seemed that half of the Westerlands had gathered in the space. Struggling not to be crushed within the crowds, Cersei weaved her way through handmaidens and stable boys, squires, bannermen and her father's wards, until she finally reached the front of the assembly.

"You're late." her father informed her, in that cold monotonous voice he had adopted in recent years. She bowed her head respectfully by way of an apology, then took her place in between Jaime and Tyrion. Convention dictated that she should have stood the furthest from her father, as she was the furthest from his title, but she could not get through this momentous occasion without Jaime by her side. Her father made no comment on the matter and Tyrion, although he looked vaguely confused, was too young to understand such customs.

She had scarcely had time to catch her breath before the fanfares sounded at the gate. Just a moment later, a flash of silver hair caught the sunlight, as the king and his eldest son rode into the courtyard. Reverently, Cersei knelt to the ground, as did the scores of people stood behind and beside her.

"Tywin!" exclaimed the king, signalling for them all to rise. "It has been far too long."

There was, of course, a reason for her father's lengthy absence from court, many reasons in fact, but Aerys' voice did not betray them. Anyone who did not know better might think that the two friends had simply grown apart. Cersei, who was one of those privileged enough to be aware, having developed a great talent for eavesdropping, could not help but shrink back a little from the king.

But she did not have a chance to dwell on that, for no sooner had Aerys' false laugh faded than he had brought forward the silver-haired boy at his side. "I'm sure you know my son, Prince Rhaegar."

"Of course." Tywin replied, inclining his head respectfully. "Welcome to the West, my prince."

"It is a pleasure to be here, Lord Tywin." Rhaegar responded. "Your castle is truly breathtaking. I only wish I'd had the honour of seeing it before."

The slight was unintentional, they all knew, and so Tywin ignored it, choosing instead to make introductions of his own. As he gestured to Jaime, his son and heir, the lord's chest puffed out with pride. It was a barely visible change and it was gone the next moment, as he passed over Cersei and turned to Tyrion, who he clearly introduced out of nothing more than duty.

When it was finally her turn, her father came to her side and brought her forward, in front of her brothers.

"My only daughter, Cersei." Tywin told the royals and the girl curtseyed low once again, her hair falling in a shimmering curtain over her face, disguising the joy that had blossomed there at the thought of her father giving her prevalence over even Jaime.

When she rose again, her eyes met Rhaegar's. '_He has such beautiful eyes.'_ she thought. '_And such a wondrous smile.'_

"She's a true beauty." Aerys commented. He was looking at her oddly, as if he had seen a ghost in her emerald eyes.

"You are indeed very beautiful, my lady." Rhaegar complimented her, taking her hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles. Cersei tried to stop the blush rising in her cheeks, but judging by her father's frown, she had been unsuccessful.

Somehow, though, she could not bring herself to care about anything else; Her father's disappointment, the king's strange stares, even Jaime's jealous frown. The prince thought she was beautiful; that was all that mattered.

A/N: I always thought that two small differences would have changed Cersei significantly for the better. One is her marrying Rhaegar, the other her mother surviving. The second scenario is the basis for my story, Gentle Mother, which will be going up in a couple of days. In the meantime, please review!


	2. Celebrations

Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you to Guest and magnus374 for being my first reviewers.

The music echoed loudly through the great hall of the keep. Everywhere one could look, they would see highborn lords and ladies eating and drinking, laughing and dancing, having the time of their lives. The Rock had never been so joyful, not since Lady Joanna had passed away.

At the top table, Cersei was trying her utmost not to appear too childishly thrilled. In a deliberate ploy from her father, she had been placed beside the prince on the dais, instead of beside Tyrion, where she ought to have been. Jaime had not been pleased by this arrangement, even voicing his displeasure at not having his sister to speak to, but Cersei could not say that she minded at all.

For the feast that evening, she had selected a sky blue gown with dagged sleeves of silver cloth. There was Myrish lace edging the bodice and cuffs and in the centre of an embroidered silver flower was set an opal, to match the one hanging from the delicate silver chain around her neck. Her hair had been pulled back in the latest King's Landing fashion, a series of intricate braids twisted around her head. Of course, the corset was restrictive, the jewellery was heavy and the hairstyle caused her head to ache, but Cersei knew better than to complain. Tywin Lannister had spared no expense in ensuring his daughter was dressed in a manner fitting for the occasion; she could not be seen to be ungrateful, not when he had paid so much attention specifically to her.

That said, the ploy had seemed to be effective. All through the evening, Rhaegar restrained himself from going down to speak to the men he knew on the other tables, instead spending all his time speaking to Cersei. At first, the conversation had been very forced, the result of two people that had never met being forced to spend time together, but after a while, they found they had a common love for history.

Eventually, Lord Tywin stood, bringing silence to the room and cutting short a debate between the two about the Dance of Dragons.

"My prince," he began, his voice showing no hint of the existence of the festivities surrounding him. "You are famed throughout the Kingdoms for your skills with a harp, yet few here have ever heard you play. Would you do us the honour of playing a song?"

Lord Tywin's voice did not reflect that this was an honour, nor did his face, but Rhaegar accepted the request with as good a grace as any man Cersei had seen.

"It would be my honour, Lord Tywin, to entertain the good people of this hall." the prince replied, bowing his head towards the top table as he left them to take a seat below the dais, where a harp had already been carried in by a number of servants.

Cersei leaned forwards in her chair as Rhaegar reached for the instrument. She too had heard of the prince's musicality, though her brother had condemned it as being girlish for a man to play music; she had not spoken to him for a week after that. However, the moment that Rhaegar sung the first note, she leant back against the wood of the seat, allowing the pleasure of his voice to fill her ears.

The song was a sad one, the tale of a man lamenting the loss of his love. It could have been 'Autumn of my Days', or perhaps 'Jenny's Song', but Cersei could not have cared any less. All she cared was that the prince carried on singing, for his voice was like nothing she had ever heard before.

By the time the song was ended, the young girl had tears in her eyes and many more had spilled over across her cheeks. Quickly, she wiped them away, fearing that her father would see. _We are lions_, he would always tell his children, _and lions cannot be seen to be weak._

She may have prevented her father from seeing her emotions, but Rhaegar was not so easily fooled. He dashed up to the top table once more, having accepted the applause from the crowd with a humble bow of his head.

"Are you well, my lady?" the prince asked, conscious enough of her troubles to keep his voice low, so that her father did not hear.

"I am very well, my prince." Cersei replied, her heart growing so light in her chest that she could feel it flutter, like a bird first taking flight. "In fact, I cannot remember a time when I've felt better."

Rhaegar chuckled at that, dismissing her profession as little more than a young girl's childish comments. Cersei did not object; had Rhaegar seen her statement for what it was, it would only have been embarrassing for the both of them.

"Would you like to dance, my lady?" the prince asked, as the band struck up the music once again. Cersei's eyes turned downward; she had been hoping he would not ask her.

"I would rather not, my prince, if you would not mind." she answered, searching her mind for an appropriate excuse. Having not found anything, she resorted instead to a paltry phrase he would surely never believe. "I do not feel quite in the mood to dance."

Cersei breathed heavily, cursing herself for not granting his request. Now, he would go off and dance with another woman, with a _score_ of other women, and she would be utterly forgotten in the crowd of names and faces.

Contrary to her fears, Rhaegar did not flounce off to take the arm of another lady, though there were plenty around the room who seemed to be waiting for him to do exactly that. Instead, he sat back further in his chair.

"Then I shall stay here, my lady, with you. It would not be princely of me to leave you all alone now, would it?"

And so they resumed their conversation from earlier in the night, Cersei arguing so passionately on Queen Rhaenyra's behalf that her father looked over to her once or twice, his piercing glare prompting her to amend her behaviour to something more befitting a lady of standing. Rhaegar, on the other hand, seemed to find her behaviour amusing, chuckling at many a point throughout the debate.

But behind his smile, his beautiful smile, there was a sadness in his eyes. Cersei could not quite put her finger on it, but she knew there was something wrong. She tried to ignore it, to focus on enjoying the celebrations, but the more time she spent with Rhaegar, the more she wondered the cause of the film of tears that covered his violet eyes when he thought she was looking the other way.

A/N: Chapter 2! Please review!


	3. Royal Favour

Chapter Three

A/N: Thank you to ladyres, ptl4ever419, magnus374 and Quindecim for reviewing the last chapter.

Sand flew up in a great cloud around the stirrups, as another young knight went tumbling from his horse, his pride and reputation landing beside him in the dirt.

Cersei let out a sigh. For all the prestige that had been awarded them, the knights of the Westerlands were accomplishing no more impressive feats of valour than providing an entertaining spectacle when they fell. Two of her uncles had already been defeated, despite being deemed two of the most brilliant knights to come from the West. '_Jaime would have done better.'_ she thought, though her brother was only ten years old.

She looked across to where her twin sat, in the place of honour beside their father, just a few feet away from the king himself. Jealousy was not an attractive trait in a young lady, so her septa said, and nor was anger, so Cersei tried to conceal her emotions, if only to avoid another tedious lecture. Her brother had her father's full attention, something she herself could only dream of, and yet he looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. '_If only I'd been born the son.'_ she could not help but think.

Beside her sat Melara, gazing in wonder at the ornate painted armour of the knights from the capital with a mouth gaping wide enough to be considered highly unladylike. Melara was the daughter of a minor knight in her father's service and was the least irritating of the wards Tywin Lannister had taken in to ensure their loyalty, though only by a slim margin, as Cersei often thought. Still, her father had insisted she spend time in the company of young ladies, so she supposed Melara would have to do.

"Aren't they wonderful, Cersei?" the young girl exclaimed, watching the next two challengers ride to the post. Cersei responded with a tight smile and a nod, not trusting herself to address the foolish girl without drawing attention to herself. '_I cannot make a spectacle of myself, not when the prince may be watching.'_

She had asked her father earlier about the prince's absence from the crowd, but he had merely shaken his head. "He will ride in the joust, child. It would not do for him to sit in the stands alongside the ladies when he ought to be preparing to fight."

In all honesty, it was the only thing that had kept her from fleeing to her rooms, the notion that soon the prince would enter the lists, dressed in his black-painted armour, with the ruby dragon on his breastplate. It was famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms for its beauty, although the smallfolk often said that no soldier had ever seen the armour well enough to examine it, such was his speed on horseback.

It was another half hour of embarrassment for the West, the only promising rider a freakishly large boy who was rumoured to be only a year older than Cersei herself, before the prince finally rode into sight. It would only be one more round before he competed and she found herself suddenly unable to sit still. Scores of knights competing for her homeland had approached the stands, asking to wear her favour as they rode, but she had politely dismissed them all, knowing that the prince himself would likely make the same request. '_He could not ask anyone else.'_ she told herself over and over again, her smile growing wider with each repetition. '_Not with my father watching, and his. They would be furious if he overlooked me.'_

Cersei was so caught up in her mind that she did not notice Septa Sarella calling her, only being pulled from her reverie by the woman's hand pulling on her sleeve. The girl instantly tugged her arm away, knowing her gown to be made of azure silk that could tear or mark at the slightly provocation, spoiling her appearance before the prince. The septa looked ready to chastise Cersei but seemed to think better of it, instead indicating a drably dressed woman on the edge of the lists, wringing her apron in frustration.

"Dyanne wishes to speak with you, my lady." Septa Sarella reported, barely able to mask her glee at the horror which crossed Cersei's face at her prospective task. Dyanne only had one role in the household; to care for her dwarf brother. "It seems that the young lord will not settle, he refuses to go to bed. She thought you may be able to convince him."

"Me?" Cersei questioned, not bothering to mask her incredulous tone. "Tyrion would not listen to me, little monster; he'd probably beat me about the head with a pillow. The only one who can soothe him is Jaime."

"Your brother is with your lord father, just a seat apart from His Grace. You cannot expect the poor woman to take a message to him within the king's own hearing." The septa was trying the young girl's patience; she could see that she was being given no way to escape this.

"Then why can _you_ not take the message?" Cersei was close to begging. She would do anything to avoid this fate. Another knight had been knocked from his horse and it would not be long before the prince took his place in the lists. If she could only stall a few more minutes.

"Cersei." Septa Sarella's voice had become lower now, more dangerous. It was reminiscent of her father's voice when angered and sent a chill down Cersei's spine. It seemed there was no more argument to be had.

Cersei stood from the bench, edging around Melara and followed her septa, biting her lip to prevent the welling tears from spilling. '_A lion does not weep.'_ she reminded herself. '_Nor does a dragon.'_

As she wandered into the castle behind the lowly maid, dawdling slightly, the young girl turned her head across her shoulder, pulling back the curtain of golden hair that fell across her eyes to see the prince ride into the lists. She cursed her young brother, digging her nails into her palms with anger and turned towards the Rock once more. No other girl would take her place in the prince's affections, she would make certain of it.

A/N: I know it's been forever, but we nearly have a new series, I've finished my exams and I thought it might be nice to have an update. Hope you enjoy, and please review!


	4. Waves of Innocence

Chapter Four

A/N: Thank you to TMI Fairy, magnus374 and Guest for reviewing.

A cool breeze whistled through the air, the breath of the Seven, as the smallfolk called it. '_It seems they do not have the same fury toward the Westerlands as they do the capital.'_ Rhaegar considered, watching the small ripples on the otherwise still water. It was not difficult to imagine elements of King's Landing the Gods might consider unsavoury when they were present in every which direction he could care to look.

Rhaegar had always found the seaside calming, something in the consistency of the waves he supposed. No matter the weather, no matter the size, the waves would reach the shore over and over again. Even his father could not command them to do otherwise.

His father's commands, for once in his life, offered Rhaegar hope, that he might escape the terrible situation he found himself facing. His mother was fully in favour of the idea, thrilled at the prospect of two such noble families being joined at last in blood. That was the argument she always used when questioned, but the prince suspected she was more thrilled at the prospect of a royal child being born only half Targaryen.

Rhaegar remembered the blazing argument he had had with his mother, prior to their departure to Casterly Rock. He had screamed at her, refusing outright to marry a child, a maid not yet flowered, but she had dismissed all his concerns as nonsense. There was no argument to be had, the queen had claimed. The marriage would go ahead.

The prince sighed once again at the thought of that pretty, intelligent young girl. Lady Cersei was an innocent, strange enough for a daughter of Tywin Lannister, still believing in the tales of Florian and Jonquil as a code by which to live her life. Such an innocent would never survive life in King's Landing, no matter much he would try to shield her. It would be her destruction.

Rhaegar turned his attention to the city sat a little way along the coast. Lannisport was enough of a distance away from the castle that the bustle of trade would not interrupt the nobles' lives, but close enough that its lord could observe its activities. Knowing Lord Tywin, he imagined it was a compromise of great benefit.

Even from this distance, young men could be seen loading and unloading ships in the harbour, young women selling flowers or tending children. He envied them, truthfully. Those young people were a law unto themselves, only limited by their ambition. They would wed for love, bear children who would play and laugh and grow to have the same freedoms their fathers had enjoyed. They would never know the burden of responsibility, the helplessness of a forced alliance, the pain of knowing their children would be consigned to the same fate. It was a petty comparison to make, Rhaegar knew- the smallfolk had their share of troubles, a far greater share than the nobles- but he could not help himself.

The tourney would last another week, followed by a fortnight on the road back to King's Landing. That gave the prince three weeks to convince his father of his argument and deduce how to do the same for his mother. All he needed was to borrow time until he could think of a better plan: it was easier not to think of the enormity of the task.

Suddenly, a figure appeared on the road to the city. It was a girl, judging by the size of her, and from the cut and fabric of her dress she was a lowborn, probably a kitchen maid. Rhaegar's mind had always worked so slowly, taking the time to appreciate details and stitch together the tapestry of events. The girl must have moved a hundred feet before he realised she was running.

Rhaegar stood from his perch on the rock, making his way across the beach towards the path. The girl was stumbling, her head jolting over her shoulder every few moments to make sure she was not being followed, a gesture that must have hurt her greatly judging by the weight of her hood. Someone must be following her, perhaps she had stolen something- Rhaegar cursed himself again. His father had always taught him to assume the worst of the common people. And he was not his father.

He had barely crossed a few feet of the beach before the girl disappeared into the shadow of the castle. In her haste she even ran to the main water gate, not to the servants' entrance around the base of the rock. She would pay for such a transgression with a whipping, but if she was in the kind of danger she seemed to be, Rhaegar imagined that would be a decent price to pay.

'_Who could have frightened her so?'_ Rhaegar wondered, and his mind at once went to Cersei. The girl must have been the same age as Lannister's daughter, perhaps a year or so apart, and yet their lives could not have been more different. Lady Cersei could call in her father's guards to protect her from any threat, no violent master or groping drunk could come within ten paces before being struck down. This girl had nothing.

Rhaegar considered calling out to the girl, offering her his protection, but he did not know who could be listening. Oftentimes trying to help in these situations could do more harm than good. Instead, the prince returned to his chambers and readied himself for bed. The tournament would continue on the morrow and the crowds would surely question why the invincible prince went tumbling to the dirt in his first morning ride. The last thing he wanted was to give his father a reason to turn against him.

As Rhaegar drifted off to sleep, his last thought was of two young girls. The girl who had run from Lannisport, her innocence marred by a difficult life, and his future bride, whose innocence was soon to follow the same path.

A/N: I know this chapter's a bit slow, but I wanted to show Rhaegar's thoughts on the match with Cersei. More drama to come in the next chapter, promise! Please review!


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